Chapter Three
Chapter
Three
MALACHI BLACK
Imove through the ballroom with steady, measured steps, Gideon at my side, his silence as familiar as my own. The low hum of conversation, the glint of candlelight on polished marble, the shifting currents of power beneath the surface of civility—all of it is second nature to me.
And yet, something lingers.
I glance toward the corner where I left her.
Sage Holloway.
That name shouldn't mean anything, yet it does.
The way she held herself, the way her gaze didn't immediately lower in deference, the way her presence alone had felt...
off. Not in the usual way that happens when an outsider stumbles into our world—fearful, naive, ripe for the taking.
No, hers was something else. A quiet curiosity, an undercurrent of something I haven't yet defined.
Beside me, Gideon exhales through his nose, not quite a sigh but the closest he'll get to one. He doesn't turn his head when he speaks. "Something different about her?"
I don't answer immediately. Instead, I let my gaze sweep across the ballroom, taking in the masked figures, the delicate charade they all play at. Power disguised as indulgence. Wealth disguised as amusement. The illusion is nearly perfect.
But then there's her.
I flex my fingers, adjusting the black leather of my gloves.
"There are many women here tonight. Some more useful than others. Perhaps you shouldn't fixate on just one," Gideon suggests.
I cut him a sharp look, but he doesn't so much as blink. He's right, in theory. I don't fixate. I don't get distracted.
But the sensation of something unsettled, something unfinished, refuses to quiet.
Before I can respond, another presence disrupts the weight of our conversation—lighter, but no less calculated.
"As I live and breathe."
Asher Kane.
I don't bother suppressing my sigh this time as he steps into our path, grinning like he's already won something. Copper hair tousled just enough to be intentional, hazel eyes dancing with amusement, a glass of whiskey held loosely between his fingers.
"You're making that face again, Malachi," he muses, swirling the glass. "The one where you look like someone just insulted your bloodline."
I fold my arms across my chest. "I insult my own bloodline when I speak with you, Asher."
"Oh, you wound me." Asher's free hand lands dramatically on his chest, fingers splayed. "And here I was, about to offer a friendly wager."
Gideon makes a quiet, knowing sound beside me, but he says nothing.
I narrow my eyes. "A wager."
Asher's grin sharpens. The kind of sharp that cuts. "The girl. The one you were just speaking with. What was her name? Sage?"
Something cold unfurls in my chest, slow and deliberate. "What about her?"
He tilts his head, his mask catching the light in a way that makes him look even more amused. "Oh, nothing. I just thought I might be interested. Perhaps I'll outbid you."
I exhale slowly through my nose, suppressing the irritation curling at the edges of my control. "Stay away from her, Asher."
He clicks his tongue, clearly delighted by my reaction. "So possessive already? And here I thought you weren't the type."
Before I can put an end to this conversation, something shifts in the ballroom.
A new thread of tension pulls at my senses, and I don't need to follow Asher's gaze to know exactly where it leads.
I turn my head just enough to confirm what my instincts already told me.
Sage.
Only now, she's no longer standing alone.
She's speaking with Elias.
Of course.
Of all the people she could have drawn in, it had to be him.
Elias stands with his usual casual elegance, one hand adjusting the cuff of his vintage jacket, the other gesturing lightly as he speaks.
His demeanor is easy, almost absentminded, but I know better.
There's nothing absent about Elias Bennett.
He observes everything, stores away every detail like a scholar collecting pages for a study only he can see.
Sage listens with a slight tilt of her head, her blue-grey eyes sharp with curiosity. Not wary, not guarded, but intrigued.
Something tightens in my chest.
It isn't anger. Not yet.
It's something slower, heavier.
Something I don't like.
Asher lets out a low whistle beside me, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, now this is interesting. Should I go introduce myself? Maybe Elias and I can start a bidding war."
I don't respond.
Because my eyes are still on her.
And she's still looking at him.
And I don't like it.